


No Coffee for Old Men

by Pythonmelon



Category: Girl Genius
Genre: Drabble, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 07:50:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7926619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pythonmelon/pseuds/Pythonmelon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What does an old man do when he's tired of what he once loved?</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Coffee for Old Men

He looked himself in the mirror, huge hands dangling at his sides. The new uniform was nice. It was white and high collared like the old one. The sleeves rolled up so he didn’t tear them, the short pants were embarrassing but practical. There was even a little pocket for his tail. 

Vole put on a crooked, tired smile. It may not have mattered if he looked nice, but it did feel alright to have a nice outfit and trimmed facial hair again, though he had opted to keep most of his beard. It brought some familiarity to the world, after all those years and minutes of terror. He felt mellow. It was even stranger than being old.  
No one ducked away when he stepped out of his room. No one came to him with instructions, or weapons, or even a list of what he could and couldn’t do while aboard this airship. He may have looked like friendly (toothy) little (fourteen foot) attendant but he was nothing more than an old man on his way to breakfast. 

He wasn’t terribly hungry, so it was a small breakfast taken from the mess hall. Six bagels, a pound of lox, something called a “quiche”, and a dainty cup of coffee. Vole remembered coffee. He liked it. He remembered some particularly Verra Good Coffee, maybe without as much of a kick as he recalled. 

Vole took a dainty sip from his cup and closed his eyes. Not quite what he was looking for. Not bad, but standard. He sat the cup down and looked for cream and sugar. No, none of that needed. The good coffee didn’t have any of that.  
He looked out the window, picking up the quiche and munching on it thoughtlessly, still mulling over the coffee. He’d figure that out eventually, seemed like a fine enough alternative to fighting.


End file.
